Page 19

THREE YEARS LATER

Jason crouched in front of his table at the Maplewood farmers market and eyed his display critically. Around him, other vendors were setting up their own tables underneath canopy tents to block out the summer sun. The Maplewood Festival Grounds were a riot of activity on this beautiful Saturday morning, with people calling instructions to each other or chatting amongst themselves before the market officially opened.

“What if I moved them to the other end of the table?” Jason asked, mostly to himself.

Bellamy pulled his sunglasses down to the tip of his nose, revealing those cornflower-blue eyes that still made Jason’s stomach swoop more than three years later. “That’s where you had them to begin with,” Bellamy pointed out.

“I just think it’ll work better there. If we angle them, people coming from this way will see them right away.” Jason rose to demonstrate, pretending he was a customer coming up to his table from the neighboring one.

“Okay,” Bellamy said agreeably, pushing the sunglasses back up his nose. “But what if they come from the other way?”

The market was set up in a large inverted U-shape, with Moon Meadows Maple Farm stationed on the right, before the U curved left.

“Damn,” Jason said. “You’re right. Okay, let’s split them fifty-fifty so there’s beech syrup on both ends of the table, with the maple syrup in the middle.”

Bellamy’s sigh was fondly exasperated, but he went to work anyway, helping Jason rearrange things. Once they were done, Jason stood back, hands on his hips. “I think I liked it better the other way.”

To his credit, Bellamy didn’t snap at him to chill the fuck out. “The market’s opening any minute. You don’t have much time to change things.”

The again was silent but implied.

“Do you think my banner’s big enough?”

“This banner?” Bellamy jerked a thumb at it. “It’s eight feet tall. Yes, Jase, I think it’s big enough.”

“Right. Okay. Where are the tasting sticks?”

Bellamy pointed at Jason’s crotch. Frowning, Jason looked down, and?—

Oh. Bellamy wasn’t pointing at his crotch. He was pointing at the pocket of Jason’s shorts, where he’d stashed the baggie of tasting sticks. They bulged out from his hip like a mini mountain.

Digging them out of his pocket, he gave an embarrassed “Heh” and shrugged. “I knew they were there.”

“Sure.”

“Hey, guys.” Ryland jogged up, his flip-flops slapping him in the heels. His partner strolled casually behind him, travel mug in one hand, checking out the products on offer along the way. “Sorry I’m late,” Ryland said. “How can I help?”

“You can tell your brother to quit freaking out,” Bellamy muttered.

“I’m not—” Jason sucked in a breath through his teeth and blew it out in a rush. “Okay, maybe I’m freaking out a little.”

Ryland shot him a sympathetic smile. “Nervous?”

“These syrups are my babies.” Jason picked up one of the eight-ounce bottles of beech syrup. “What if they don’t sell?”

“Then you try again next week.”

“And at other farmers markets,” Bellamy added. “And at the farm shop and on your website.”

“And didn’t you just sell a couple of gallons to a restaurant in Middlebury?”

“Okay, okay.” Jason huffed. “I’m worrying for nothing. I get it.” He started to ask Bellamy to move the Free Samples sign so it was more visible when a thought occurred to him, and he frowned at Ryland. “Weren’t you supposed to be here half an hour ago to help us unload?”

“Um...” Ryland’s smile was very wide. “Sorry. Someone wouldn’t let me out of bed.”

“Sorry, what was that?” Kyle Dabbs came up behind him, ginger hair covered by a Trailblazers hat. Bending down, he kissed Ryland’s neck. “Who wouldn’t let who out of bed?”

Ryland rolled his lips inward, then let them out with a pop. “I mean, maybe it was a little bit my fault.”

“Uh-huh.” Dabbs brought his left hand up to rest at Ryland’s hip, the wedding ring glinting on his ring finger.

The one on Ryland’s was equally as sparkly.

Jason had to hand it to his brother—when Ryland wanted something, he went after it wholeheartedly, jumping in with both feet, damn the consequences. It had taken a few months, but Dabbs had finally seen Ryland for who he was, and they’d married less than a month ago. Their relationship had been complicated by the fact that they played for different teams, but they hadn’t let that stop them.

Jason had gotten to be the best man at his little brother’s wedding . It had been surreal.

As the first few customers entered the grounds, Ryland sniffed the air like a wolf scenting prey. “What’s that smell?”

“Bosnian food over there,” Jason said, giving a chin nod toward the table across from his own.

“Nice. Want anything?”

Jason shook his head. “I’m too nervous to eat.”

“Bel?”

“Sure, thanks. I don’t know anything about Bosnian food, so get me whatever looks good.”

Ryland stuck his tongue in his cheek. “Extra hot peppers, right?”

Expression turning baleful, Bellamy flipped him off.

Cackling, Ryland towed Dabbs away.

While Ryland and Bellamy got along better now than they ever did—Denver had been right: getting their heads out of their asses had turned them into the best of friends—they still occasionally roasted each other, and Ryland still teased Bellamy about the time he’d tricked him into eating an extra-spicy curry that had turned Bellamy’s face the color of a fire engine. The summer the year Jason and Bellamy had started dating, Bellamy and Ryland had been guest coaches at Ethan Gallagher’s hockey camp—a childhood friend of Jason and Ryland’s who played for Seattle but who spent summers in Maplewood—and they’d played in the same Maplewood Pride Festival charity hockey tournament.

Ryland’s post that had outed Jason and Bellamy as a couple had made more waves than they’d expected. It had garnered reactions bordering on ragey to supportive, with some people wondering if the rivalry had been an act this whole time and others remarking that Jason and Bellamy were “sooooooo cute together”—in the words of one commenter.

Ryland and Bellamy had each been asked about it by reporters, but after the fifteenth or sixteenth iteration of We’ve decided to put the past behind us , the reporters had gotten bored and moved on to other topics. Jason, by contrast, had mostly been left alone to make his syrups and finish his master’s thesis, although Maggie had asked them if they wanted to do a joint segment on a popular talk show.

They’d declined. That was just weird. Bellamy wasn’t the first NHL player to publicly come out by any means—in fact, he’d been out before he and Jason had started dating—nor was he the first to be in a relationship with another man. Their only draw to a talk show host was that Bellamy and Ryland used to be rivals—were still rivals when their teams played each other—and they didn’t need to exploit that for no reason.

The cry of a toddler jolted Jason back to the present, and he eyed his table display one final time. He wouldn’t call himself a beech syrup expert by any means, but after a few years of experimentation, he now had a better idea of beech tree sap flow and sap-flow timing. He was also part of a team led jointly by UNH and the New Hampshire Department of Agriculture, Markets and Food—along with three of his former professors—that was researching the feasibility of long-term beech syrup-making and if it had the potential to take root in New England.

Per Jason’s request, neither Bellamy nor Ry had posted about today’s market to their social media. Sure, fans would no doubt flock here, but Jason wanted to sell his syrups to people who would enjoy them, not to people who only wanted a bottle for the novelty of owning something distantly related to a professional hockey player.

“I’ll be happy if I sell just one bottle of beech syrup today.”

Bellamy scoffed. “You’ve already sold two gallons.”

“To a restaurant,” Jason pointed out, joining Bellamy on the other side of the table, under the canopy and out of the sun. Early morning in July and he was already hot enough to bake a steak on.

“Markets attract foodies.” Bellamy bumped their hips. “You’ll sell half at least. I’d bet on it.”

Jason gazed at this man who’d been nothing but supportive and who’d held his hand through the ups and downs of life for the past three years. Who’d cheered the loudest when Jason had been handed his master’s degree in agricultural science. Whose shy smile on that long-ago day had made Jason want to hug him and never let go. He’d looked lost that day, like he couldn’t find his way even with a roadmap in front of his nose.

It was only looking back that Jason realized he’d been lost himself, going through the motions of day-to-day but never letting anyone get close, jumping to conclusions and assuming the worst.

And then Bellamy had stepped through his walls like they were made of butter and shown him that he was more than a tool. More than what Dustin and Tommy had made him believe he was.

He was Jason Zervudachi. A farmer, a friend, a son, a brother, an uncle, and maybe one day...

A husband.

As Ryland and Dabbs made their way back to them, bumping into Bellamy’s grandparents on the way, Jason blurted, “You’re going to marry me, right?”

Bellamy’s smile was softer than a butterfly’s wings.

They’d talked about it—getting married—but they hadn’t been in a rush, and neither of them had ever laid it out so plainly before. It had been a someday thing, a later thing. A let’s reach these goals first thing.

For Jason, it had been the completion of his thesis and his new specialty syrup.

For Bellamy... Well, he’d breathed a huge sigh of relief when, after more than three seasons, the Trailblazers had added clauses to his contract that prevented him from being traded. It helped that he had a local sponsor—the same business that had made his Trailblazers-themed bracelets—and that fans thought he was “the cutest thing ever” when he posted photos of himself with his grandparents.

The bracelets weren’t exactly on brand according to Bellamy and his agent, but the jewelry-maker’s sales had shot through the roof when one of the Trailblazers’ public relations coordinators had posted a reel of the players wearing them, and he’d been insistent. In fact, Bellamy was wearing one of his creations now, a beaded bracelet in shades of amber.

“To represent your syrups,” Bellamy had said earlier.

Jason had kissed him until neither of them could breathe.

So maybe, with those big goals out of the way—and with more big goals yet to come— someday and later were actually...

Now.

“Are you asking for real?” Bellamy said huskily, tugging him closer. “Because if you are, the answer is yes. And if it’s just a hypothetical... well, the answer is also yes.” He booped Jason’s nose. “When have I ever said no to you?”

Jason let out a laugh of disbelief. “Um, hello . You said no to me just last week when I asked you to go camping.”

“Listen, you know I love you.” Bellamy dropped a quick kiss on his lips. “And you know I love this gorgeous state, but I draw the line at sleeping in a tent. I can enjoy nature from my window, thanks very much.”

“But you only got, like, four mosquito bites last year.”

“It was at least a dozen. Don’t try to sugarcoat it.”

Charmed and amused, Jason grinned and kissed him once. Twice. A third time. “I was asking for real.”

There came that shy smile again, the one that still made Jason want to hug him and never let go. It was mixed with happiness and wonder, sending streaks of pleasure through Jason that he wished he could capture in his hand and treasure forever.

As Ryland and Dabbs returned, bringing Bellamy’s grandparents along with them, Ryland babbled about Bosnian cuisine as though he was suddenly an expert, but Jason couldn’t take his eyes off Bellamy. Bellamy winked at him before greeting his grandparents, and Jason flashed his patented please buy my syrups smile at his first customers of the day, but he was always aware of Bellamy’s location, just like Bellamy was always aware of his judging by the many times their gazes met throughout the day.

Bellamy Jordan.

His boyfriend.

His partner.

His fiancé.

His future husband.

Life had never been sweeter.

THE END